


You were the umbrella above my head

by xuming8



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:25:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22711507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xuming8/pseuds/xuming8
Summary: The best thing about Wonwoo is Mingyu.The best thing about Minghao is Mingyu too.Or;Each time Mingyu whispers words of daisies in Wonwoo’s ears,petals of yellow carnations grow inside Minghao’s lungs.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu, Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 9
Kudos: 86





	1. One.

“Congratulations, you big golden retriever.” 

Minghao manages to croak out in between held back sobs as he refrains his tear ducts from secreting its byproducts. It does not matter anyway; a certain Kim Mingyu is resting his chin on his palm, eyes unfocused, cheeks stained with pinkish hue, a silly smile on his face, all the tell tale signs of being drunk off wine. 

If Mingyu could spend the last five years of his life being completely oblivious to the stupid fondness (read: hopelessly in love) that Minghao has for him, the latter figured, what changes tonight? 

“I’m going to miss you though,” Mingyu slurs, taking another sip of the red wine before continuing. “-‘m going to miss this too, our Wine and Dine nights.” He reaches for one of Minghao’s hands. “You know I love you the most, right?” 

Something burns in Minghao’s chest, making his heart squeeze tightly in his ribcage. The declaration of love is enough to make his heart skip a beat, and definitely enough to make him want to cry because of the uncertainty of when or if they will ever share a moment like this in the future. 

Tomorrow will be a brand new day. Tomorrow his best friend will be wedded to a certain Jeon Wonwoo. 

“Of course I do. We have been best friends for five years, idiot.” He smiles wide, squeezing Mingyu’s thick and stubby fingers with his own sinewy ones. 

The word best friend tastes bitter as it rolls off Minghao’s tongue. 

Mingyu closes his eyes and smiles his heartbreakingly handsome smile again before making his way to the sofa. He dozes off to sleep, light snores escaping his mouth. Minghao plops down on the floor right next to the arm of the sofa where Mingyu is sleeping on. 

His smile is bittersweet as he watches the steady movement of the taller’s chest. He shifts closer and gently cups the sides of Mingyu’s head. 

“I love you.” He whispers in a quiet voice. 

Mingyu would have said he loves Minghao too, just not in the way that Minghao had wished for. 

He stays like that for a while, watching Mingyu sleep off the booze when he notices that his eyes are glassed over the memories of five years worth of friendship. 

Minghao chokes out a sob, then the tears won’t stop falling. They are tears well spent. Those five years of standing by Mingyu’s side were well spent. 

He sheds a tear for every memory, every smile, and every moment that they had shared. He cries because he knows this is what is right. He cries for Mingyu and he cries for himself. 

And so that is when the wave of nausea hits him. 

He makes a dash for the bathroom— the nausea claws at Minghao’s throat, and he tries to force down the bile. Petals of yellow carnations spew out of his coughing, choking mouth. 

His stomach keeps on contracting violently and forces everything up and out. Minghao’s face is white and dripping pieces of flowers, sweat and tears. 

Bending down into the sink, he cups a handful of water in his hands and splashes his face with it in hopes that it will bring back the colour that has been drained off. 

He stares at his own reflection in the mirror. He looks and searches and still, he cannot find a spark of life glowing in the depth of his eyes; they are lifeless. 

Inside the sink bowl are the flower petals, yellow carnations to exact. He thinks about Mingyu’s featherlight touches on his skin and five years of foolish, loyal, and one sided love, Minghao feels his heart break. 

He is a man with too much love to give, and too few days to live.


	2. two.

It is a wonderful day for an outdoor wedding. The weather is warm, but not terribly so, just warm enough for Minghao to shut his eyes and bask in the sunlight. Sweet strain of music drifts through the crowd, Minghao hums along as he recalls the foolish days of college years. 

Minghao majored in art at a decent-good-university in Seoul, and worked part-time at a convenient store to support himself, where he got overworked and underpaid. The brighter side of it all was Mingyu, who was also an art major, taller, good looking, and a literal yap bot. He was a burst of colour in Minghao’s black and white world. Mingyu listened to his rambles about missing home, and Mingyu laughed when he put too much paint on his canvas. 

Mingyu and Minghao were (are) best friends, emphasize on friends. Minghao is the one that Mingyu has on speed dial whenever he needs something - be it notes or a shoulder to cry on - and Minghao is the one who would show up with fizzy drinks and western horror movies from the 90s at Mingyu’s dorm after they both got a 32 on a test that they did not study for. 

Jeon Wonwoo stumbled upon their lives when Mingyu and Minghao joined the band club at their university in their first year. Wonwoo was a year older than them. It occurred to Minghao that even when their little band practice crowd dispersed at 6pm, Mingyu would always linger behind to help Wonwoo pack up the equipments. 

Minghao fell in love too easily, too quickly, and he did not realize that Mingyu was not there to catch him. And he stayed in love, even after Wonwoo showed up, even after he caught the pair exchanging kisses in his and Mingyu’s stuffy apartment when they thought he was not around. 

When Mingyu told him that he was in fact in love with the older boy who was an acting major, Minghao’s mind was devoid of any words. He tried to smile, just in case Mingyu could sense it. 

“What do you mean in love?” 

Are you in love with the way he acts towards you? Are you in love with the sound of his voice? Do you love him romantically? As a brother? What is it? 

But, Minghao knew, somewhere between the sound of Minghao’s paint brushes clicking against the wooden table, the screeching of the metal chairs as Mingyu sat down to eat dinner, Mingyu fell in love with Wonwoo and not him. He knew that in years from now, he would be on the sidelines to cheer for Mingyu and his new love. 

Attraction is one thing, reciprocation is another, Minghao thought. 

His train of thoughts is disturbed when he can feel a figure looming in front of him. Minghao cracks his eyes open and sees his long-term friend standing in front of him. Seokmin offers him a small smile and a hand, “Let’s go. Everyone is looking for you at the after party.”

Minghao nods and returns the smile, albeit his is not as sincere as Seokmin. He reaches for the hand and winces as the pain in his chest and stomach intensifies. Alarmed, Seokmin grabs Minghao by his shoulders, “Are you okay? Do you need to lie down? Water? Anything?” 

“I think... I think I can make it today, if I don’t stand up much, I’ll be okay.” The Chinese man shakes his head, clutching at his stomach. 

Lee Seokmin lets out an exasperated sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright. Let’s go.” Seokmin leads Minghao out of the Airbnb and to the wedding venue which is situated right by the beach. 

Jeju has always been beautiful. The first thing that hits Minghao is the salty air, the majestic deep blue ocean folds before his eyes, the dazzling sunlight of early May makes the sand sparkle like a thousand of tiny jewels. Warm breeze swirls around him, making his hair in all different directions. 

Jeju is so, so beautiful, and yet everything hurts. 

The music stops, and all heads turn to face the far end of the walk. Seungkwan’s soft voice rings through the air, along with Jihoon’s piano. Down the aisle he comes. 

Kim Mingyu in all his 186cm glory, clad in a black, single breasted, satin tuxedo with a white-wing collar shirt. He walks hand in hand with Wonwoo who looks as equally stunning in his white tux. 

Minghao cannot help but feel the petals of yellow carnations threatening to regurgitate in his throat. 

Mingyu’s soft smile blossoms into a wide grin as he spots Minghao waving him over at one of the tables under the gazebo for guests. With Wonwoo in tow, he approaches his best friend. 

“We have been looking all over for you! Where did you go?” He huffs, punching Minghao lightly in his shoulder. 

The said male laughs half-heartedly, he hopes Mingyu does not pick it up, “Aigoo, our Mingyu and Wonwoo got married but he still needs me to be around?” He says teasingly. 

“Well, a certain somebody has decided to leave his newlywed best friends in Korea and go on a Europe tour. It feels like you are never going to come back.” Mingyu argues. 

Minghao forces the corners of his lips to turn upwards and ignores the little pin pricks that he feels in his chest. “You guys have each other now. What is the big deal anyway?” 

“We are not a bicycle, Minghao, we are a tripod. You are one of the three legs of a tripod instead of the third wheel on a bike. If you put it like that... you will understand why we cannot go on without you.” Wonwoo explains, and the gravity of his reply hits Minghao hard.

Mingyu smiles and , “We fit together like a puzzle and we are just a three piece puzzle. Never leave us incomplete.” 

After staying with the couple for a bit of chatting, Minghao excuses himself back to the airbnb. His body trembles violently, his knees go weak at the thought of the man that he loves; Mingyu. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

Inhale. 

Exhale - 

but it is never enough and his vision is hazy and his heart thuds wildly. Everything is asphyxiating, and his lungs are desperate for a breath of air it could combust. 

Minghao tumbles towards the bathroom with his limbs that have lost its coordination. He pushes the door open and falls on both his hands and his knees. 

He retches. 

And retches endlessly. 

His shoulders shake and Minghao opens his eyes, he finds pretty yellow flowers that are not that pretty anymore. 

Never leave us incomplete.

Minghao will never leave him incomplete, as he has always promised, but the flowers that are growing rapidly in his chest tell him that somebody did. 

Mingyu gave him butterflies and Minghao loved it, but where there are butterflies, flowers bloom. 

The trip to Europe had been a complete lie. It took Minghao months of convincing from Seokmin and Joshua for him to undergo the surgery of removing the plague of yellow carnations in his lungs. He had refused at first, 

“In the end, he made me really sad but I just want to say that I’m willing to have it this way than to never have to know him at all.”  
In which caused the duo to burst into fits of rage. 

“You are crazy, Xu Minghao!” Seokmin had screamed at Minghao who was sitting down on the beanie bag, hugging his knees and resting his chin on it. Joshua rubbed comforting circles on his back, before agreeing in his gentle and quiet voice. “He’s right, you know? Mingyu is just one boy, and your life is not a Netflix series. I would hate to see you waste your life away because of an unreturned love.”

He continued, “My heart breaks for you, and for all the other people who love you.” 

After a whole night of sobbing in Joshua’s and Seokmin’s apartment, Minghao knew he had to grit his teeth, bite his tongue, and undergo surgery. 

Even though surgery would mean extracting the memories that he had of Kim Mingyu. 

He spent so so long waiting for Mingyu, and wondering when Mingyu would see him that he forgot he must see himself first. And Mingyu could not be his lighthouse if he is lost to the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone has not noticed yet i suck at dialogues becos i am socially challenged bYE


	3. three.

Wonwoo and Mingyu are best friends, minus the ‘friends’ part because it has been replaced with husbands and Mingyu’s kisses, although they are still sloppy. Wonwoo is no longer insecure, but the glint that appears in Mingyu’s eye whenever Minghao walks into the same room does not go unnoticed, even when they have their fingers interlaced.

Wonwoo is wonderful and easy going and makes Mingyu’s heart grow three sizes larger in his chest from happiness. He lets Mingyu steal all the food on his plate and he shows up at Mingyu’s dorm whenever the younger boy craves some company. Sometimes, Wonwoo sings because Mingyu asks him to.

Wonwoo has a beautiful voice, but it is not the song that Mingyu is looking for.  
And he knows, in the deepest parts of his heart, he knows that it is not his company that Mingyu craves for, but he is oh so love with the tall, dark, and handsome art major to even care about the consequences.  
He used to watch the duo quarrel every single day multiples times, but he never grew exhausted of it. If anything, he found it amusing.

The sheepish smiles Mingyu hid after Minghao accepted his peace offerings and talked to him after they were done terrorizing each other with names. He also realized that the true reason why Minghao’s cheeks were almost always tinged with a shade of crimson was not because of the cold, but because of his boyfriend.  
After four years of dating, the couple finds out that married life does not differ greatly from the time they used to date. They dissolve into a routine;

They both come home from work, Wonwoo would start cleaning every crook and nanny of the house, and Mingyu is in charge of ensuring that dinner is being whipped up in 30 minutes. Sometimes Wonwoo would sneak up behind the taller man, resting his head on his shoulder and arms wrapped around Mingyu’s muscular frame.  
Mingyu and Wonwoo eat dinner in near silence, occasionally striking up conversations about work, or their mutual friends.

It is routine.

It is nice.

Long term relationship takes a lot of effort.

There are good years and there are bad years and there is this year; Mingyu and Wonwoo feel lightyears away from each other.

Mingyu is getting used to not seeing Minghao’s beat up, splattered with colourful acrylic paint trainers from the years of breakdancing and an art student by the doorstep, or Minghao spreading the newspapers flat on the coffee table because he would say holding them up tires his arms, with a mug of piping hot Chinese tea on the side because he says tea and newspapers go well together.

He slips into bed and under the duvet carefully to not wake up the sleeping man. Mingyu rolls over to face him, observing the way the moonlight illuminates the floor of the bedroom and dances on Wonwoo’s skin. He reaches out with shaky hands and touches his lover’s cheeks, warmth radiating beneath his fingertips.

One touch is never enough.

Mingyu wishes he could give everything that he has got to offer – warmth, body, love, soul – but he does not know how to piece them together into a string of words that he could convey to Wonwoo, to tell Wonwoo how much he cares.

He traces Wonwoo’s jawline with his index finger, trailing down a supple neck and he pauses to run gentle circles over the sensitive skin – wishing, thinking hoping, for something... anything –

“Mingyu...? What are you doing?” Wonwoo’s voice that is thick with sleep penetrates the silence of the night.

“What we used to do... I love you, so this is okay, right?”

An edge laces Mingyu’s words, as if they are reaching to cradle a broken heart. The words are just enough to touch the heart faintly, but never enough to mend it.  
Wonwoo smiles because he knows it is Mingyu who has been there for him the longest, who has never stopped loving him, who still needs him. But on the inside, only sadness fills him, because he can feel the dynamics of their relationship shifting. As the moonshine twinkles across Mingyu’s tanned skin and wishful smile, Wonwoo’s mind can only muster up one thing to say to Mingyu.

He brings his hands up and forms a little box, framing Mingyu’s face, and snaps a fictional picture. “Got you.”

“What are you doing?” Mingyu asks, face scrunched up in confusion. 

“Taking an imaginary picture.”

“That is nice... but why?”

“You and I have been busy with work lately, love. I forgot what you look like when you smile, and...” Wonwoo’s gaze softens, “You always smile in every Minghao’s snapshot of you.” He points to the picture frame on the table of his side of the bed.

A weight drops in Mingyu’s stomach, he thinks it is his heart.

There is a photo of Mingyu, it is from the day the three of them had gone to Jeju island together, when Minghao was tickling him on the beach. He was lying on the sand and his hair fanned around his head. He was captured mid-laughter, his mouth caught in a puppy-like smile, and his eyes in crescents. The sunlight caught all his features, the slope of his nose and the moles on his face.

“Let’s go to sleep, Mingoo-yah.” Wonwoo moves closer to Mingyu. He takes a hold of Mingyu’s arm and places it around his waist. 

“Safety belt has been buckled... ready for take- off to dreamland.”

That night they fall asleep facing each other, but all the while Mingyu is plagued with unsettling dreams. Dreams of beautiful horizons and warm touches and laughter and smiles.

Dreams of Minghao.

———————

Five hours later, it is the middle of the night, and all Minghao has done is lay in bed and watches his curtains dance as the night breeze blows through it. Almost every night is spent like this, tossing and turning and wishing for something long gone.

Xu Minghao never loses his calm and collected demeanor, has never been one to talk about the woes of his life, and has been labelled as fearless by his closest friends. He was three when he started doing martial arts, crying for three months during stretching exercises because his mentor would force his leg up, he felt as if his skinny physique would tear and rip in half. Those were the years he thought he would never survive, but he did.

But the thunder in his heart won’t settle down – not when the surgery is a week away. Maybe he is afraid of the anaesthesia poking through his skin and pumping his bloodstream with numbness, maybe he is anxious of sensation of the scalpel scraping along his body before the incision is made, maybe he is horrified of having somebody opening up his chest cavity with a retractor and rummaging around for petals of yellow carnations.

Above all, he is definitely most afraid of forgetting the affections he harbors for Mingyu.

He grabs his phone under the nightstand and taps a few keys, pulling out FaceTime and dialling the only person he wants to talk to right now, at this moment.  
Mingyu’s name and picture flash on the screen, and a small grin flash on Minghao’s face.

“Hey, Minghao, what’s up?” Mingyu picks up almost instantly and gives his greeting sleepily. He is in bed, lying sideways. “Why are you not asleep? Up practicing for the dance competition?” He asks, yawning.

Minghao bites the inside of his cheeks, nervous about the white lie he had told Mingyu. He nods a bit. Mingyu’s hazy voice is distorted by the distance, and by static, but does a good job in calming down his nerves a little bit.

A comfortable silence drapes over them and Minghao watches Mingyu as the older man stares right back at him. “Sorry, I am not really that great of a talker right now,” He sighs.

Mingyu shakes his head, “No. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Minghao takes a deep breath. “I am worried about the competition.” He lies through his teeth. Mingyu opens his partially lidded eyes before mumbling, “Why?”

“I am afraid of failure, you know that, Mingoo.”

“And so?” Mingyu’s eyes have gone sharp, the sleep briefly gone. “You always survive. You know the dance floor like an old family.”

“I know. I just—”

“Minghao, stop overthinking.” Mingyu interrupts as he exhales. “You’re good, no, you’re one of the best. You pride about how you start breakdancing since twelve, but you told me you’ve been doing this since nine. Your dad worked multiples jobs so you can learn dancing and arts. You would sneak behind your mum to practice breaking because you both know she does not like seeing her baby breakdancing.”

Mingyu continues drowsily, “You have always proven yourself to be a winner. Remember when you said you would do your best for me? That’s who Seo Myungho is. You always get on the dance floor, leave everything to the universe, and just dance, Minghao.”

Minghao nods dumbly as Mingyu’s breath starts evening out. He watches Mingyu sleep on the screen of his phone, caressing Mingyu’s skin like they are not on different parts of Seoul.

And really, Minghao does not expect for Mingyu to suddenly wake up and chase after him because this is not a sappy love story nor is this a best-selling romance novel. This is Xu Minghao’s life and it is such a tragedy and so ordinary it hurts.

He unclenches his closed fist, revealing a single yellow flower petal.  
Minghao breathes once more before whispering into the air, “Don’t let me wilt, Mingyu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a confusing angsty love triangle? love that for me


	4. four.

The cure is to forget. 

Minghao does not intend for anyone to find out.

Lee Seokmin perhaps had one too many drinks in his hands and accidentally lets the cat out of the bag. 

It’s February 18th. 

“Jihoon, help me hang these streamers up!” Soonyoung calls from the main area. 

Said person walks into the living room, crossing his arms, and narrows his eyes at his boyfriend on the sofa. 

“Is that supposed to be an attempt to belittle me?”

Soonyoung holds back his obvious laughter, he coughs out between wheezes, “What are you on to, babe? What reason do I have to belittle you?”

Jihoon indulges in the mental image of an eyebrow-less Soonyoung. Ah, such a lavishing beauty. 

“Shut up, Soonyoung. You know I can’t reach up there.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes at the usual bantering of the couple, “How did they stay together for six years without any attempted murders from Jihoon’s part again?”

Joshua mouths an ‘I know’. 

“Anyway! There is food here on the table and alcohol in the cooler! Help yourself to anything else, got it? I’ll be here if you need me!” Seokmin yells to the small crowd of his closest friends. 

He and Joshua aren’t expecting too many people, since only half of their group responded to the birthday party invitation via text. 

The doorbell rings, and Seokmin immediately perks up to answer it. “I’ll get it!” 

“Mingyu and Wonwoo! So glad you could make it!”

“Been so long huh?” Mingyu pulls Seokmin into a tight hug, eyes scanning around the living room for a lanky figure. “Minghao is not here?” He questions. 

Seokmin shakes his head to signal a no and breathes out a white lie, “No. He’s visiting his mother before the Europe trip.” He hopes the lie doesn’t come out as strained. He has never been good at lying. 

“Anyways, let’s catch up! I don’t think we’re expecting anyone else!”

Hours pass.

Hours pass, and most everyone drinks to their death. Only Mingyu remains sober, doubling as a designated driver just in case anyone needs a ride home. Wonwoo, though not drunk too often, becomes a deadweight slump of sleep when he’s drunk. Fortunately for Mingyu, it doesn’t come with negative consequences. 

By the time the clock chimes the half hour bell to midnight, Mingyu has a lap full of an unconscious Wonwoo. He engages himself in idle, but amusing conversation with Lee Seokmin. 

“You know, Mingyu?” Seokmin hiccups with a grin on his face. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s about Minghao.” 

Immediately, Mingyu expresses an interest. 

“Our Minghao?” 

“Minghao. Hanahaki. You.” 

“Happy birthday Dokyeom!”

Confetti cannons attached to strings are popped every which way, and their drunken friends holler their birthday wishes for Seokmin. 

All this commotion, yet Mingyu only hears Seokmin’s statement. 

//

The words echo in Mingyu’s ears for the whole day. He tries to escape from them, but nothing can drown out the sounds.

Forget. 

Forget. 

Forget. 

Minghao can live if he forgets the love that he has for him. 

Wonwoo drives them home, chewing his lower lip in quiet concern. Mingyu leans his head against the window, breath fogging the glass. 

“One-sided love,” Mingyu mutters softly, Wonwoo’s gaze lifts when Mingyu speaks. “One-sided love.” His tone is hollow and sharp. “The flower grows out of one-sided love. Minghao is going to die because of me.”

//

“This... it’s not working out. We can’t do this anymore.” Mingyu deadpans. 

Wonwoo doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything but shuts his eyes and exhales quicker. 

“I know.” 

Mingyu snakes his arms around Wonwoo and pulls him close, tears slicking the black strands. A hand rises and touches there, coming back shiny. A body shifts and Mingyu finds himself being held and caressed. He hiccups and digs his nails into the plush of Wonwoo’s thighs, glancing down at him.

“Don’t you see...” Mingyu never gets to finish his sentence, because when he looks at Wonwoo, he sees he is crying too. The dam breaks and Mingyu holds Wonwoo close, to feel the heat of Wonwoo’s skin on his. He shakes against the man that he knows he loved, the man that loved him more than he deserved.

“I know. I know,” Wonwoo whispers. “Don’t tell me, because I know.” 

Somewhere inside of Mingyu knows Wonwoo knows. He does not need words to explain, because Wonwoo understands it all too well. He has seen enough spoilers of their rocky relationship to be able to predict the most possible outcome. 

They take comfort in the silence above the city, standing on the balcony of the apartment at night. 

As they look over the lit skylights, Wonwoo revisits his old feelings:

He remembers stargazing with Minghao on the very same apartment balcony. 

He remembers a shy, awkward, and clumsy 19 year old Kim Mingyu asking him to be his boyfriend. 

And then he remembers Jeju Island, and Mingyu chasing the sun in black tuxedo. 

The said man is looking over the night view of Seoul, and certain kind of calmness shows on his face, as if he has finally made peace with his mind. Wonwoo realizes that they are no longer at the beginning, but have made it to the middle part and that they are running out of time. 

It hits him all at once—pent-up emotions of happiness, melancholy, anger, and grief—weighing heavily over his soul that it could kill him

And then he screams. 

Mingyu watches as Wonwoo shout into the atmosphere. He screams but no one hears him except Mingyu. All the love leaves him in roars loud over the city, not knowing where else to place it. 

Seconds pass before another voice joins him— Mingyu’s broken cries spill out into the void of the night. 

“Is this okay?” asks Mingyu, voice shaking. 

“I...” Wonwoo breathes. “I think so.” 

“You know I love you, right?” 

“I love you too, Mingyu.” Wonwoo pauses for a moment, “For what it’s worth, I don’t regret spending every single day with you, Mingyu. Even the difficult times we’ve been through are precious to me... even this one.” He smiles sadly, not looking at Mingyu in the eye. “Who can regret spending five years with their best friend?”

That night they pack some of Wonwoo’s belongings. It’s only two luggages, but it feels like half of their life is being stowed away while the other half is getting left behind. 

Wonwoo keeps a calm and collected exterior but inside he is devastated, defeated, and grieving. An overbearing sense of finality drapes over him. 

This is it. 

This is where their five years of companionship takes them. 

He hears Mingyu rummaging through the closet. Wonwoo is going to miss having Mingyu’s big, warm body to sleep to at night, to eat his home-cooked dinner, to welcome home in the evenings, someone to snap at when he has had a bad day. Maybe all these years he had taken these trivial things for granted because they seem much more precious now than ever that they are being taken away from him. 

Wonwoo says he will call a taxi but Mingyu refuses to send him away in such a manner. He can make sure that Wonwoo arrives at Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s apartment safely. Their friends’ apartment is 10 minute drive away, and when they arrive, the couple are just as bubbly as always. 

“Amazing. Mingyu did not accidentally step on the brake instead of the gas and kill both of you with his driving skills? Or lack thereof?” Jeonghan asks with a lighthearted grin on his face. 

“Not going to lie, he almost had us in the first half.” Wonwoo returns the joke. It sounds strained but at the moment, joking around is better than being reminded of the reality. 

“My driving is perfectly fine, thank you very much.” Mingyu retorts, helping Wonwoo wheel his luggages into their friends’ upscale apartment. 

“Who are you fooling? You are a walking hazard sign, Kim Mingyu.” Seungcheol jabs Mingyu’s rib playfully with his bony elbow. 

“That was years ago, hyung.” 

“Yeah right. Two years is a long ass time.” 

“Alright you two, enough of that.” Wonwoo cuts in, although his lips curl into a meek smile at the wave of nostalgia. 

The four of them stand in the living room for a couple of minutes, and so Jeonghan shoots his husband a pointed look. Seungcheol takes a tad too long to finally get the hint. 

Jeonghan clears his throat. “Right. Wonwoo can stay in the spare room for however long he needs until this thing gets sorted out. And you...” He flashes an awkward smile at Mingyu, “I’ll talk to you later.” 

Mingyu and Wonwoo are left alone with nothing but the quiet whirring of the refrigerator in the kitchen to cut the silence between the two of them. 

“So I guess this it.” Wonwoo’s voice cracks at the last syllable. 

“I guess so,” Mingyu replies as he digs the palm of his hand with the tip of his car key. 

“Five years ago when you first asked me out... It never crossed my mind that we would be where we are right now.” Wonwoo sighs and looks directly at Mingyu, his gaze unwavering and searching for answers. 

Mingyu swallows the lump in his throat, “Wonwoo, I...”

“I know. It’s okay. It has always been Minghao, has it not?” Wonwoo says, shaking his head. “I remember. The two of you were probably drunk or something. Aren’t you two always, after all? Anyway, it was the two of you, drunk and giggly, but you said something.” He pauses thoughtfully, glancing at the phone at the edge of Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s kitchen counter. 

“You said, ‘This is Mingyu and Minghao’s home phone. Leave a message but we will probably never call back. Of course, your voice was slurred an Minghao was hiccuping in the background, but you said it.”

Mingyu does not understand. 

“You said ‘home’ , you said ‘we’ , as if you and Minghao were— a couple.”

Mingyu can’t tear his eyes away from Wonwoo, even as tears stream down the older’s face. Jeon Wonwoo that Mingyu knows is strong-headed, calculative, cunning — not this weak, crumbling, bitter man in front of him. 

He breathes in deeply and runs a finger through his hair, voice just equally as shaken. “I’ll call and speak with Jeonghan, check up on you and...” He pauses hesitantly, “We can with proceed the divorce files.” His voice barely audible. 

“Okay.” Wonwoo meets Mingyu’s gaze with glassy eyes. “I’m going to miss you.” 

Silence settles between them once more and Mingyu steps forward and ruffles Wonwoo’s bangs with a meager smile. “I’ll miss you too. If Jeonghan and Seungcheol get too crazy, you can always drop by Soonyoung and Jihoon’s place.”

“Hey! We heard that!” Jeonghan’s voice echoes from the end of the corridor. 

Mingyu and Wonwoo laugh quietly. The sullen atmosphere lifts a bit once Jeonghan and Seungcheol waddle back into the living room. 

Seungcheol drapes an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulders and messes up his hair. Mingyu watches the exchange before tearing away his gaze to exchange silent words with Jeonghan.

“Take care of him, hyung.” 

“Don’t worry, Mingyu. We will.” 

//

It’s Minghao, lying on the ward with a slightly raised arm to grab onto Mingyu’s shirt. Minghao isn’t looking at him though, his eyes are half awake.

“Minghao,” Mingyu chokes out a sob as his fingers curl. Fingers curl tighter around the fabric of his shirt and it takes Mingyu all he has to remain calm like the man he supposedly is and walk back towards Minghao who is lying on the bed.

This empty shell- Mingyu bends down and cups the sides of Minghao’s head to look at him.

“I love you.” Mingyu whispers fiercely before leaning forward to press their lips together.

If Minghao forgets, Mingyu will be there to remember.

Too late. 

Mingyu is just a little too late.


	5. five.

// present day

The last time Mingyu ever spoke to Minghao, the latter is lying on the bed, looking worn out post-surgery, hooked up to an iv drip by his side while Mingyu just sits there by the cold ward bed, staring.

For four days after the surgery, Minghao drifts in and out of sleep, the sides effects of anaesthesia taking its toll on him. The first time he wakes up, he thinks he sees a big, tall figure of Kim Mingyu standing against the window in his hospital room which is propped open to let in some air.

His throat feels a little odd when he swallows his saliva, it glides down his throat cool and easy. He hasn’t felt that way ever since he started throwing up yellow flowers. He touches his adams’ apple, coughing slightly.

Mingyu turns around quickly and swallows thickly in his throat, he looks rather rigid and very out of place, “You awake?”

“I am,” Minghao answers, and they fall into a state of quietness.

“You were sick.”

Minghao looks up to find Mingyu studying him intently.

“And I found out through Seokmin’s drunk ass. Me, your best friend of five years.” Mingyu presses. “How are you now?”

“Better than ever,” Minghao replies softly. “I guess you know what it was.”

“The love flowers.” Mingyu clenches his fist.

Minghao tilts his head. “The one-sided love flowers.”

There is a slight shift in Mingyu’s black eyes and it’s burning but it’s gone in a blink. 

Minghao feels like he is looking at a past that is not his.

Art exhibitions.

Wine.

Jeju.

The memories are somewhat vague and muffled, they come to him in blurry bits and bobs submerged underwater.

“I was in love with you, wasn’t I?” Minghao says. His thin and long fingers trace the shape of his collarbone through the hospital gown. He smiles at Mingyu again, withering. “Oh, Wonwoo should not have to worry. I’m not in love with you anymore,” He laughs soft and short under his breath. “I never will be, I am not able to. When the flowers are extracted, the feelings go away as well, forever, I’m guessing.”

“What if I loved you back?” Mingyu says suddenly with a sharp tone. He inches closer to Minghao, so close that Minghao can smell his aftershave.

A laughter bubbles up in Minghao’s now empty lungs, “There is no way you would have. There is Wonwoo, and the flowers would not have grown in the first place.”

“Hypothetically, if I did.” Mingyu grabs Minghao’s skinny wrists.

Mingyu sounds frantic, and there is sadness too, Minghao thinks. Mostly, Mingyu just looks tired and confused. “I don’t know, Mingyu.” He admits, “Did you ever tell me?”

Mingyu’s grip loosens, “What?”

“Did you ever, -hypothetically- tell me you loved me?” Minghao stares blankly at his hands, “My flowers were yellow carnations, Mingoo-yah. Yellow carnations mean disappointment and rejection. I... I know how to take a hint.” 

Minghao knows that the memories are there. He feels them too. They are swishing around on the distant edges of his consciousness. He knows they are there.

// 2015. 

It was a rainy day when Mingyu asked Minghao to attend an art exhibition with him as a course requirement. Minghao had refused and groaned at first, it was a Saturday and it was cold, Minghao didn’t like it when those two words are combined together. 

By some sort of miraculous force combined with Mingyu’s stubborn ass, Minghao found himself huddling together with Mingyu under the latter’s small umbrella as they braved through the rain, raindrops gathering around their ankles to get to the art centre. 

“You’re taking up too much space! Just like a big dog who thinks he’s a lap dog.” Minghao complained, leaning closer to Mingyu for warmth, and also for protection. “Look, my shoulder is wet.” He pointed out the cold raindrops that were hitting his left shoulder. 

The umbrella was too small for two people, but Minghao preferred it that way. 

Mingyu was an umbrella above his head, he was so used to Mingyu being next to him, holding the small umbrella for the both of them. 

Without him, it would feel too big and awkward. Minghao can’t be without him alone in the rain. 

“Seo Myungho-ssi, I don’t think you have the right to complain. I told you to bring your own umbrella but you never listened.” Mingyu retaliated by pinching Minghao’s button nose with his free hand, earning a slap on his forearm from the shorter boy. 

As they reached the art center, Minghao was folding the umbrella when he noticed that Mingyu was a shivering mess, rubbing his hands together and desperately trying to pocket it in his grey Bart Simpsons hoodie. Minghao frowned, “You knew it would be a cold day today, you should’ve worn mittens or something. What, did you think you’re cold-proof? You’re really dumb, aren’t you?”

Mingyu only rolled his eyes in response. “They make my hands clammy, Minghao. You know that.”

“And not cold, dumbass.” 

Mingyu didn’t give an answer. To be specific, he couldn’t answer because Minghao took a hold of his right hand and shoved it in the pocket of trench coat that he was donning. 

“Shut up. It’s not fair to feel warm alone.” He murmured, not looking at Mingyu who was wearing an amused grin on his face. 

They studied the photographs together. It was a photo of children who were standing on a rooftop. The wind sent their hair in all directions, and blurred the clothes hanging from the clothesline. It turned the background into a colourful, yet hazy mess. 

Mingyu could foresee an argument waiting to ensue when Minghao asked him about the definition of art. 

Their conversations had always ended up like that. Put two painfully stubborn, strongly opinionated people together and every phrase turned into a challenge, a game, and yet Mingyu desperately wanted to win. 

“Well, art to me is something visual.” He said after a moment. 

“Classic textbook definition,” Minghao went off, with an air of mock disdain, “Art only exists in visual form. Classic.” 

Mingyu rolled his eyes, “Fight me, skinny legend.” 

“Art is about a feeling,” Minghao replied, leaning in, because Mingyu did. He could feel Mingyu’s breathes brushing against his skin, and he knew Mingyu could count each and every of his eyelashes. Mingyu was running his tongue between his lips. 

Minghao matched him before continuing, 

“And you made me feel.” 

“You’re saying I’m a piece of art?” Mingyu said, a tiny smile pulling his mouth. It was like he knew, Minghao thought with a rising panic he desperately tried to fight down. 

Mingyu’s lips found their way perfectly onto Minghao’s. When Mingyu looked back, he wasn’t sure about who leaned it first, why it happened, or even how long it lasted. 

But Mingyu wondered why his lips were tingling. 

He was just a coward. 

He was afraid. 

Afraid of wanting. 

Afraid of needing someone, needing someone with the same sort of desire that he’d tasted in Minghao’s mouth. 

He was so afraid. 

// present day. 

After much of shoving from Jeonghan and Seungcheol, Wonwoo has finally started going out of the couple’s house —and it’s nice, it really is. He has never thought that he would find joy in trivial things like going out for dinner, hanging out, and making new friends. 

He’d originally thought that his whole universe only revolved around Mingyu, but in reality, it’s not. 

Life does not have to be about his relationship with Mingyu only. It’s a combination of living, learning, experiencing new things, and most importantly —finding happiness that doesn’t stem from other people but himself. The past couple of weeks had been rough. Wonwoo still isn’t sure about where he stands in Mingyu’s life now. 

He still has a lot of questions, a lot of pent up regrets, and a whole lot of things he’d like to say. He is starting the long road to healing, and he isn’t sure if Mingyu is in the picture of the journey. 

That Friday, Wonwoo is running an errand at the grocery shop round the corner to pick out fresh produce. It’s therapeutic—food shopping is, a content smile pulls gently at his lips as he chooses the meat cut. When he turns around, he is met with the last person he expected to see here—Mingyu. 

“Hey,” Mingyu greets simply. 

“Hey yourself. How have you been?” Wonwoo asks, in hopes he could extend the conversation.

“Okay, I guess. Kinda different without you at home, though.” Mingyu averts his gaze. 

“It’s different without you too.” Wonwoo admits.

Seeing Mingyu now feels comfortable. 

Maybe it’s because Wonwoo has already cried his entire existence worth of tears. 

Or maybe because things really are different between them now. 

This comes off as a surprise to Mingyu as well. Being away from Wonwoo for a several of weeks, it isn’t as hard to be around him anymore. If anything, it feels natural albeit their conversation is awkward and strange. 

Mingyu opens his mouth but no words come out, he can’t find the words that he needs to say. He’s finally figured out his answer but how is he supposed to say it?

Wonwoo is looking at him and he looks hopeful, how is Mingyu supposed to deliver such heavy words?

But Mingyu doesn’t have to say anything, because Wonwoo understands everything all too well. His smile is bittersweet when he finally speaks, “Looks like you just found your answer, Mingoo-yah.”

Tears blur Mingyu’s vision, and he realizes that Wonwoo is holding back his as well. 

This moment hurts so much but it’s not a burden, it’s a relief. 

Wonwoo pulls Mingyu into a tight, comforting hug, burying his face into Mingyu’s chest before letting go of the last hug and speaking, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” 

Mingyu smiles sadly, his eyes are distant, “Yeah. I do.”

“Then why are you waiting here? Go, you big puppy.”

Mingyu looks over at Wonwoo one last time, thinking about the five years he’d spent being Wonwoo’s companion, then he runs out of the grocery store.

And so Wonwoo watches Mingyu disappear in the distance. 

So he will let things go. The way Mingyu kissed him, the way he held his hand. 

The years were good when it lasted, although the recent ones were rocky, but at one moment he was loved and had given love and he is grateful for that. 

He thinks about the moments that they have shared together and, he breathes out. 

He will be fine. 

He will. 

// same day

Mingyu wakes up in a sweat. It’s nighttime outside when he fumbles his way to the bathroom, and coughs dryly into the sink.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and tastes blood on his tongue—thin, barely there. A faint iron flavour. He reaches for the light switch, running the tap.

He almost misses them as the water starts to flow. Flower petals circle down the drain. Two of them—tiny.

Yellow. 

Soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do give wonwoo, mingyu and minghao lots of hugs my mans need it


	6. six.

The cold bites Minghao’s skin so he buries his nose into his scarf as he walks, shuffling quickly into his apartment building. He unwraps his scarf with a little sniffle, cold and him do not go hand in hand. 

“Your nose is all red.” 

Minghao lifts up his head and finds Mingyu waiting at the foot of the staircase, a parcel balanced on his knees. 

“I pressed the bell, but there was no answer. Figured I’d just wait,” Mingyu explains, standing up and brushing the dust off the back of his thighs. 

They stand in silence, the cold from outside is still thawing on Minghao’s cheeks. “Are you okay, Mingyu? You know the passcode to my home.” He continues, “You don’t look okay.” 

“Okay?” Mingyu gestures to the package that he is holding in his hands. “I stayed up late trying to put this together last night.” He clears his throat and holds it out. Minghao steps forward to take it. “Just a little get well soon gift, I guess,” Mingyu says. 

He raises his arm, but then stops himself. “Sorry. There’s... some dust in your hair.” 

Minghao looks up at Mingyu, “would you like to come in?” 

“If that’s okay with you,” Mingyu’s reply is rather stiff. Minghao flashes him an awkward smile as an attempt to diffuse the strange tension in the air as he punches in the passcode to his apartment. 

“Should I open it?” Minghao asks, pulling the package towards him once they are comfortably sitting on Minghao’s ugly green sofa. Mingyu gives him what is probably a thin smile, so Minghao unwraps it carefully. He pulls away the paper, trying his best not to rip it too much.

It’s a photo album. 

Minghao runs his fingers along the smooth material. “Pictures?” he murmurs. “What kinds?”

“Take a look,” Mingyu says, not giving away anything. 

There isn’t anything Minghao is expecting to see. Mingyu, he knows, photographs cities and streets and the smallest corners of the world. But when Minghao pulls the cover back, he is met with his own face.

In the opening picture, Minghao is slouched on Mingyu’s bed. The shadows are heavy around his figure, blanket curled over his legs. Soft, white light from the television streaks across his face. His eyes are wide in the photo, eyebrows a little creased in concentration. The caption at the bottom reads: Minghao trying to understand Korean, send help. 

He flips the next page, and then the next. Every picture is of him. Minghao in Mingyu’s dorm, Minghao in his own dorm. Minghao sitting across from Mingyu in a coffee shop. Minghao hunched over his canvas with a bit of paint colouring his cheeks. Minghao squatting down on the floor being surrounded by his painting supplies. Minghao smiling. Minghao not smiling.

Most of them are candid. The ones that aren’t have Minghao’s lips parted, caught off guard.

“When did you even…”

Has he forgotten that Mingyu was photographing him? Or had he just never noticed?

He turns the page. Plastered to the back is a final photograph with no caption.

Minghao in from of an art centre somewhere in the heart of Seoul. His cheeks, even in the dark, are flushed red. He looks like he is mid-sentence, and whatever words are sitting on his lips, there is some strange life clinging to all the lines of his face as he speaks.

It’s unfamiliar, almost—different than the face Minghao sees in the mirror every morning. This Minghao, painted in the colours of Seoul, is a different Minghao. 

“We fought once about what home means, and I think I’ve finally found out what it means,” Mingyu taps the album. He stares at the Minghao in the photo. “You’re my home. You’re my safe place,” 

Minghao curls his fingers. “Why are you showing me this?” 

If Minghao tries, hard, he can remember things like a rainy day and art centre, and the fleece lining of his trench coat pocket where he’d stuffed somebody’s hand. 

Peering through the glass in Mingyu’s eyes is as if staring through a window with thin curtains. Light seeps through, but you can’t see beyond that.

“I let you wilt away,” Mingyu’s voice is barely audible as he reaches into his pocket and unclenches his fist. 

Inside, is a single yellow flower petal. 

It looks like a yellow carnation. 

The photo album slips from Minghao’s fingers. The memories appear before him, again as wispy and ephemeral as smoke. Had he too coughed yellow carnations back then? Had his flower also been as sad as Mingyu’s?

Yellow carnations. 

Minghao recalls suddenly. Those had been the flowers that invaded his lungs. “Get a surgery, Mingyu. The cure is to forget, for your sake and for mine.” 

Mingyu shakes his head violently, “I’m stubborn and I won’t give up.”

“You can’t fix me, Mingyu. And I can’t fix you. You can’t give me back my memories.” Minghao exhales lightly through his nose. 

“I know. I won’t try,” Mingyu pulls out his camera and the shutter clicks, Minghao sees his own reflection. 

“I’ll just give you new ones.” 

Mingyu smiles. It’s small, lacking mirth perhaps, but it reminds Minghao of the smile Mingyu had given him as he had introduced himself, that first time when they met at the shitty convenience store across their campus. This smile filters back to Minghao the way the yellow carnations had—abrupt and neither familiar nor foreign. 

A smile with promise.

This is where they begin.

//

Time flies. 

Time also heals all the wounds.

Mingyu thinks, maybe that is accurate, as he and Minghao pull up to the new cafe in their neighbourhood. When they step into the main door, they’re awestruck at how cozy it is. Dimmed lighting, candles, and jazz music echoing softly from corner to corner. 

“Hi, there!” greets a young man with an angelic smile. “A table for two?” 

Minghao notices the thick Chinese accent lacing the man’s words. “We’ve been told that ours has been reserved under Kim Mingyu?”

“Ah! Kim Mingyu-ssi, I was told that we’re expecting you today. Come along, let me show you the best spot we’ve reserved for you.” He grabs two menus and leads them to a secluded part of the cafe in the back corner. “My name is Wen Junhui and I will serve you today. Can I get you something to start with? We offer a wide selection here.” 

Mingyu watches as Minghao flips through the menu, he never disappoints when it comes to picking out the good stuff. 

“We’ll take two cups of the best that you have. Sounds okay, Mingyu?” asks Minghao. Mingyu hums in approval as he snuggles closer into Minghao’s side. 

“Got it. I will be back right away.” Junhui flashes them his angelic smile again before slipping to the back of the restaurant. 

Minghao takes the chance to finally speak out his concern. “Are you sure this is okay? I mean, sure it has been a while, but... won’t it be kind of awkward?” 

“It might be. But he invited us so there’s no way I could’ve turned it down.” 

“I know. I’m just afraid that someone might get hurt.” 

“Minghao, stop worrying.” Mingyu presses a kiss on Minghao’s cheek, “We were best friends before, we are best friends now. Some things don’t change, everything will be fine.”

Mingyu and Minghao are immersed in their conversation when an individual approaches their table. Minghao doesn’t know what to expect, neither does Mingyu, but the shimmering smile that Wonwoo gives them dissolves their doubts away. 

“Wonwoo!” Exclaims Mingyu as he’s caught off guard. 

“My two idiotic best friends, I’m glad you guys came.” He gushes. 

“Really?” Minghao asks, avoiding from meeting Wonwoo’s eyes. 

“Sure I am. Why wouldn’t I be? We’re a tripod and not a bicycle, remember?” Wonwoo slings his arms around Mingyu and Minghao’s shoulders, “Without you two I’m just a chair with one of the legs shorter.” 

Minghao chews the inside of his cheek, mulling over the thought of dishing out the obvious but decides to let it go. The last thing he wishes to do is sour this reunion. 

“Stop it, Xu Minghao. I can hear you thinking out loud.” Wonwoo catches him off guard. 

Like always, Wonwoo takes his face into his hands, “Minghao.” His voice is firm, Minghao wonders if he knows. 

Sometimes, Minghao forgets that Wonwoo is the strongest between the three of them, and that at most times Wonwoo is the one who keeps them together and ground them to the earth. 

“You don’t get to blame yourself, not on my watch. We ended things on good terms, and we— you, me, Mingyu, we’re all healing now. It’s all good.” Wonwoo speaks softly, caressing Minghao’s face. The latter only nods as he squeezes Wonwoo’s hands. 

“I’m proud of you for finally opening the cafe of your dreams!” Mingyu interjects, trying to cast away the nostalgic cloud that is hanging above them. “Your business seems great, almost every table is full.”

“Of course it’s great. Wonu here has been working really hard,” Junhui happily chirps in as he nudges Wonwoo with his shoulder. Wonwoo flashes the waiter a look that doesn’t go unnoticed by Mingyu. 

Mingyu has seen that look before — some good years ago. 

“Do you guys mind if I take a picture of us?” asks Wonwoo. 

“Yeah, let’s do it! It’s been a while since we’ve had a picture of us taken.” Minghao replies.

“I’ll take the picture,” Junhui offers, hands already reaching out for Wonwoo’s camera. 

“I want you in the picture too,” Wonwoo replies, not noticing the deep red blush across Junhui’s face as he snags another waiter to take a picture of them. 

They do their best to cram in around the table. It’s strange for Mingyu to be sitting next to Wonwoo after so long. 

Old wounds take a while to heal, and he’s sure that he and Wonwoo are making a progress. They still have a long way to go, and there is a tiny dull ache in his heart when he looks at Wonwoo. However, a world without Wonwoo in it doesn’t feel right. 

They’re best friends after all and nothing can change that. 

// 

Minghao gazes at the framed picture hanging on the wall before him — right in the living room of their old shared apartment. A soft smile forms on his lip, showing the little dimple that he has. 

He can feel Mingyu’s arms grabbing his tiny waist and Mingyu’s chin on his shoulder. “It’s a good picture, isn’t it?” He asks, reaching for his hands to tighten Mingyu’s hold around his slender waist. 

“Mhm,” Mingyu hums in reply and smiles unknowingly. 

Because the picture tells the story of love, life, and friendship. Because it shows that time can heal most anything, and you will never know what life has got in store for you. 

The corner of his eye turns to look at the blue invitation card on the coffee table that has painting splattered on it. 

‘Jeon Wonwoo & Wen Junhui invite you to share in their joy as they unite in marriage.’

“I love you, do you love me?”

Mingyu’s eyes are filled with happy tears, as he buries his face in the younger man’s neck. He notices that Minghao’s eyes are glassy as well. 

“You’re an alright guy.” 

Mingyu hears Minghao telling him that he loves him too. 

Minghao loves him so much he’s going crazy.

They giggle together, smiling and sharing a few more kisses, utterly happy. 

Minghao was eighteen when he fell in love with his best friend. 

He remembers being twenty one when he coughed up yellow flowers, and the doctor told him he would not be alive. 

But now he is twenty three, he is in love with his best friend again, and for the first time in Minghao’s life, he feels whole. 

In the beginning there was only sadness. 

But in the end, as he and Mingyu dance slowly— not complete without Mingyu’s uncoordinated long limbs knocking over the magazines on the glass table which results in the of them breaking out into a fit of laughter— to the soft jazz music in their apartment from university days that still smells like acrylic paint and cheap dinner— 

Minghao thinks, finally— a home. 

the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to every kind soul that has given the time to read this. i hope i was able to touch hearts!


End file.
